Little Witness
by Jgirl53
Summary: A woman murdered. A child missing. There's only a few things left to do, and they all lead to solving the case. *I don't own Elementary*
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock bounded down the stairs, bright and early. His steps lead to the kitchen where Joan had her back to him. The clink of metal on ceramic detonated that she was mixing her morning coffee.

"I suggest a to-go cup, Watson," Sherlock waved his phone. "We've got a homicide to investigate."

Joan grabbed a cup from one of the cabinets, "I thought we were wrapping up the Corinne Reed case today."

"Murderers don't exactly work around our schedule." Sherlock wrapped his plaid scarf around his neck and shrugged on his jacket. "That case is all but done anyways, our help is not needed."

"Fine," Joan struggled with her coat as she held her cup in her left hand.

"Do try and keep up," Sherlock was already out the door.

_.:Elementary:._

The duo arrived at a crime scene soon after thanks to the modern-day miracle of the subway. They were walking down the hall of the apartment walk-up.

Sherlock made note of their surroundings quickly, "An apartment building with a view of Central Park."

"Do you think they were killed for money?" Watson guessed the most likely motive.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves just yet."

They arrived at the open door of the apartment where an officer was standing guard. With a quick nod of politeness and recognition they were let through the yellow tape and into the apartment.

Captain Gregson turned the corner into the entrance hall of the apartment, "We've got one victim, female, in her late twenties. Looks like blunt force trauma to the head."

"Looks?" Joan asked in confusion.

"You'll see what I mean," Gregson lead them to a bedroom in the back of the apartment.

Inside was a basic room: bed, nightstand, various trinkets and accessories for decoration. Curiously, there were various stuffed animals sitting on the bed. The most noticeable bit was the red stains all around the room, and it wasn't paint. On the floor was the woman Gregson mentioned: short black hair, medium build, roughly average height, wide brown eyes, Caucasian. She was all but covered in blood and various wounds visible on every piece of untainted skin. It was hard to discern exactly what wound could have ended her life above all others, even with the highly noticeable blow to the head.

"Now I see what you mean," Joan sucked in a deep breath to stable herself.

Sherlock gestured to the body and pointed a look towards his black-haired companion.

"Uh…" Joan stepped closer and bent down to get a closer look at the body. "The blow to the head isn't deep enough to kill instantly, only disorient." She shifted her position to look at the other scattered wounds. "No major arteries were cut. That was either luck or deliberate." She pointed at spots on the victim's forearms. "These were fairly new, the bruises didn't form yet. All of these injuries were inflicted very close to death."

Sherlock nodded and took over from there. He approached the closet doors. "This blood spatter, it's cut off. The door was open." With gloved hands, he pulled the door open. Inside was more blood on the clothes. He bent down and grabbed an out of place item from the floor of the closet. Holmes held up a teddy bear with blood spattered across its front, a small section was completely clear of blood, where it clearly should have been. "Why would a stuffed animal be in the closet of a grown woman who clearly has no shame in showcasing such toys?"

"It could've just been put there because there was no more room elsewhere," Watson proposed.

Holmes put his nose to the back of the toy, "Baby powder." The ex-addict stopped in thought for a second before turning his attention to Gregson, "Have you searched the rest of the apartment yet?"

"No, we got here only a couple minutes before you did."

Sherlock stood up and pushed his way through the doorway of the bedroom and started searching through the hallways eagerly. The first door he opened was a bathroom. The second, an extension to the kitchen. The third, another bedroom. This one had a small bed and crayon drawings taped to the walls.

"Was a child here when you arrived?" Sherlock called down the hallway where Gregson and Watson were trying to catch up, both physically and mentally.

"No," Gregson looked into the bedroom Sherlock searched so heartily for.

"Now we have one to look for. Not only might the child be kidnapped, but also a witness to murder," Sherlock spoke evenly.

**A/N: This idea wouldn't leave me alone. I'm probably going to be writing it whether you people want to see it or not, so yeah. The Corinne Reed case is also completly made up. Have a nice day.**

**Read. **_**Enjoy**_**. Review.**


	2. Chapter 2

Joan retracted a little, trying not to get ahead of herself. So a child was kidnapped, most likely a witness to a brutal murder, and, at the current moment, she didn't have a clue where to start. Sure, she'd been training with Sherlock for months now, but moments of hesitation still slipped into the beginnings of cases sometimes.

In her moment of thought, she didn't notice Sherlock had moved. One half of the consultant duo was now standing in the middle of the child's room, a frown etched into his face.

Gregson watched Sherlock go through his usual routine of just standing and observing. As usual, the captain provided certain information. "The neighbors upstairs called it in. Reported it as a 'ruckus'."

"I'll be wanting to speak to them soon," Sherlock said in response, still looking around.

"Got it," Gregson walked away to check on the status of the other investigators.

Joan looked around the room in the meantime. The walls were the standard white that comes with a new building. There was barely any decoration besides the crayon drawings. Any onlooker would think that the room didn't even belong to a child. The carpet was devoid of all stains that existed due to small, clumsy hands. The furniture itself was white, just plain, not marked with paint and stickers as most other children would apply through the years. The bedspread was the only major splash of color in the room, a vivid pink with ladybugs and butterflies dotted through the fabric.

Suddenly, Sherlock took a few steps closer to the drawings on the wall. He lifted up one of them that was taped only at the top. The drawing was of two stick figures, one tall with black hair and brown dots for eyes, one short with blonde hair and dark blue dots for eyes. On the bottom left corner of the drawing was clean handwriting, much to stable for a child. It said "Family Portrait by Adalynn Pierce". Sherlock shifted his jaw as his eyes bore into the words.

"Captain!" The loud words rung through the apartment as Sherlock acted like he hadn't even yelled.

"What do ya got?" Gregson asked as he hung at the doorway.

"The name on this apartment's lease, what is it?" Sherlock didn't raise his eyes to meet Gregson's.

"Kacey Pierce."

"Hmm," Holmes hummed out. "A single mother _and _she could afford a flat with a view of Central Park."

"It does sound a little weird," Joan agreed.

"I think I'll talk to those neighbors now," Sherlock announced and started off to the front door of the apartment. A few knocks on a door one floor up later, Sherlock was ready with his questions.

The man who answered the door was clean shaven; he wore an expensive suit. His brown hair was whisked to the side via an application of hair gel. He fiddled with the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt as he opened the door. "Yes?" He asked impatiently.

"Hello, I'm here to ask about the call you made to the police regarding a 'ruckus' downstairs?" Holmes rocked on his heels, eager for information.

"I didn't make the call, now if you'll excuse me, I'm late for work." The man pushed his way through the doorway. Sherlock noted how the man eyed Joan before departing down the hallway.

A woman came to answer the door in the man's place. "Hi, I'm the one who made the call." Her blonde hair was done back in curls and her makeup was done fully. "I'm sorry about my husband. He's always in a rush."

"Yes, yes, now about the call?" Sherlock pushed on.

"Oh, yeah, I heard Kacey downstairs having an argument, must've been over the phone, I didn't hear anyone else. Then there was a loud thump, so I called the police."

"The thump, what did it sound like?"

"Excuse me?" The woman quirked her head in confusion.

"What did it sound like?" Sherlock reiterated, "Body hitting the floor? Something breaking against a wall? To throw out a few examples."

"Body hitting the floor?" The woman replied, slightly horrified, "Is Kacey alright?"

"Technically, she's dead. But, moving past that, what did you hear?"

The woman's eyes darted all over the hallway. "I guess it could've sounded like a body."

"Did you see anyone coming and going out of the building lately?"

"No, I've been in the apartment all day."

Holmes waived off the answer, "Of course, you must be so confident in your lover's ability to not be detected at this point that you didn't worry about making sure your husband was out of the building."

The woman's eyes widened, "How dare you imply I'm having an affair."

"I'm not implying it, I'm outright saying it. All done up with nowhere to go, the slight anticipation in your face as your husband left in a hurry. Don't fret; I'm fairly certain your husband is having his own affair also, given how most businesses are open by now and the look he gave my companion. In fact, he didn't even mention how it was his wife that made the call. At least he's shown to be a bit more shameful about his wanton sexual acts."

Joan reigned in Sherlock with a quick pointed look in his direction before stepping forward to take over the conversational aspect. "Sorry, he has… well, no boundaries. Is there anything else you can tell us about what you heard?"

The woman shot a hard glare at Sherlock, who smiled in return. "Well, it sounded like Kacey didn't want to give up something. Not surprising, she's been borrowing my cookware for months. I've only seen a few things returned."

Holmes interrupted, "That's all we need." He looked down the hallway at a man approaching, clearly taller and younger than the woman's husband, "Just in time too. Good luck with your affair."

Joan rolled her eyes and started back down the hallway with Sherlock. "Was that really necessary?"

"Most likely not," Sherlock agreed, "But it got things done. Good consultant, bad consultant and all those fine things. You should know how this works by now."

"I should've gotten more coffee this morning," Watson muttered under her breathe as they walked the staircase back to the crime scene.

**A/N: I'm alive! And so is this story! Well, here's an update. Have fun with it, I know I had fun writing for Sherlock.**

**Read. **_**Enjoy**_**. Review.**


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock sat in the middle of the child's bedroom. He stared intently at the teddy bear that made its new home in an evidence bag across from him. Watson sat beside him with her hands folded in her lap. Gregson had long since left to begin filing a search for Adalynn.

Joan interrupted the never ending gaze, "It's just a bear."

"No, Watson, it's not. Young Adalynn had this bear in her arms as she watched her mother be murdered, which would explain the small strip of missing blood. The bear still has the scent of baby powder to it. Now if you hadn't noticed, there's no changing table in this room. Given how clean this room is, Adalynn is an unusually cleanly child, so the bear never actually required washing. The scent of the baby powder is still there from when she was quite small; I'd say she's most likely had it her whole life."

"That still doesn't give us much," Watson resisted a yawn. Stopping for coffee was starting to sound better and better.

Holmes raised his voice ever so slightly, even though he knew he could be heard perfectly fine, "_My point_ is that if a kidnapper was to take a child, what better to keep them quiet with than with a comforting trinket. Most children are bribed throughout their lives to keep quiet by their parents: candy, toys, etcetera. Why wouldn't our kidnapper take the bear with him on those conditions?"

Joan groaned into her hand, it was far too early for this, "Okay, well maybe the kidnapper was in a hurry. He _did_ just murder someone."

"No, the wounds on Kacey Pierce were deliberate, they took time to inflict." Holmes gestured a hand out to Joan, "_You_ even said that none of them hit any major arteries. That itself could point to torture."

"But what was the point of torturing Kacey? I mean, Adalynn seems to be the goal here and she was sitting right in the closet. Why go through the trouble of torturing Kacey if they could just finish her off and grab Adalynn?" Joan tried to get her thoughts in order without caffeine.

Sherlock looked at the room around him, basically ignoring Joan in all intents and purposes. "This room is made with almost the same design as the master bedroom, despite the master having two walls with a longer length. With one big exception: the closet. They're the same size from the doors in, but the one in the master is three feet to the right on a wall with the same width as this one."

The seasoned consultant tapped an index finger to his lips before standing abruptly. He made his way to the master bedroom in a few long strides. The body had been removed by the M.E.'s earlier, only to leave all the blood in its place. Avoiding all the major blood spots, Sherlock moved to the open closet. He ran his gloved hands over the sections of wall on both sides of the door. After he was satisfied with that, he began knocking.

Detective Bell, who had been left behind to watch over a few other investigators and the consultant duo, stepped into the room due to the noise. "What are you doing?"

"Knocking," Holmes gave the obvious answer.

Bell decided not to ask for what and just observe. Joan, now beside him, stayed silent also. Holmes, oblivious to both of them anyways, continued knocking. The wall to the right of the closet wielded nothing out of the ordinary. A few knocks into the left of the closet sounded a different noise than what the rest of the wall proclaimed. Sherlock began knocking around all around the wall until he made a perimeter of the stranger noise.

"The walls aren't as thick, almost like there's another…" Sherlock trailed off. His voice suddenly got louder, but his words had the most impact to the onlookers, "Adalynn? I'm with the police, if you can hear me knock on the wall."

A barely audible knock came from the inside of the wall after a few tedious seconds. Bell and Watson took another few steps into the room.

"Alright," Sherlock continued at the same volume, "I need you to come out of there if you can. One knock if you can come out on your own, two if you need help."

A single knock was heard again. By then, both Watson and Bell were standing right beside Sherlock.

A few seconds later, heavy unlatching sounds could be heard from inside the wall. Sherlock moved to open the closet doors completely. As he did so, a small door a foot above the ground swung out from the wall and pushed a few of the hanging garments out of the way. Curious blue eyes peered out from the crack of the secret doorway.

"Police?" The single word was soft spoken. Hesitant, almost as if she'd shut the door and lock it again at any sign of dishonesty.

Bell flashed the badge hanging from his belt as proof. The door creaked open a few inches wider, allowing more of Adalynn's face to be seen, she looked to be between three or four years of age. Her eyes darted from the three faces in front of her to what their bodies didn't block of the room. She couldn't see much, but she did see small splashes of red on the walls.

Joan noticed this, "Close your eyes."

Adalynn looked at Joan with a silent question playing across her blue irises, but she did as asked. Joan picked Adalynn up from where she was croutched in the small doorway and rested the small child on her hip.

"Just keep your eyes closed for a little longer," Joan whispered as she stepped out of the bloody bedroom. Her steps clacked on the wood floors of the hallway and into the living room, where she set Adalynn down on the large, beige colored couch. "Okay, you can open your eyes."

Sherlock and Bell followed Joan into the living room. Bell almost immediately darted out of the room with the comment that he was going to call the captain.

Holmes crouched in front of the light blonde haired, blue eyed child. They both just looked at each other for a while, studying the other. Holmes took in the red on her right forearm, confirming his bear-holding theory, and the top corner of her white Yankees t-shirt. She also had on denim pants and pink sock clad feet, an outfit ready for outdoor play if Sherlock didn't know any better. He knew enough at least, considering how much time he spent observing people at the park.

Eventually, the silence was broken by the older of the two. He held out his right hand as if for a handshake, "Hello, I'm Sherlock."

Joan internally groaned and put a hand to her forehead. She should've expected that Sherlock knew nothing about interacting with children. It was Adalynn's reaction that surprised her the most though.

The child raised her right hand, open-palmed, and placed it in Sherlock's larger grip. "Ada," She said clear as a bell, introducing herself.

**A/N: Another chapter so quickly? Yes! I have big plans for this story, if you hadn't noticed. Sorry if you don't think Sherlock would act like that around a child, but I think he'd treat a child with either blatant disgust for having to deal with such a mess maker, or treat them like another adult since he's had no other interaction experience with children. Have a great day and all that.**

** Read.**_** Enjoy**_**. Review.**


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